


"You ever notice every time you open your mouth you make things worse?"

by whoviangoesthere



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, That's it, Tucker needs to keep his mouth shut, Tuckington - Freeform, also Wash is adorable, but he's also fucking dense, continuation fic, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoviangoesthere/pseuds/whoviangoesthere
Summary: This is a direct continuation of Adventures_in_Writing's "What's Your Name" fic.  Tucker gets sent back in time to Project Freelancer.  Where Wash doesn't know him, but he knows too much.  And his knowledge puts him and everything he cares about in danger.





	1. Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adventures_in_Writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventures_in_Writing/gifts).
  * Inspired by [What's Your Name?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844969) by [Adventures_in_Writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventures_in_Writing/pseuds/Adventures_in_Writing). 



              After Tucker had left, Washington stared at the medical bay door, imagining Maine lying on a bed behind it.  His mind was reeling from what Tucker had told him, even if it was just scant details of a future he had no idea how to control.

              _Screw that_ he thought.  _I’m gonna change it._

              York stepped into the waiting room, hovering in the doorway with his arms crossed.

              “Did he talk to you?” he asked.  “He seemed…shaken.”

              “Yeah,” Wash managed.  “Not that I’m much better.”

              “The hell did he tell you?”

              Wash sighed and let his face fall into his hands.

              “I don’t know,” he said softly.  “He told me Maine’s going to be fine.”

              York paused, and Wash could tell he knew that wasn’t the full story.

              “I think he has your best interests at heart,” York said, pushing himself off the doorway.  “Just be careful.”

              Wash managed to crack a small smile.

              “Always am.”

* * *

              Tucker collapsed onto his bed and groaned into the pillow.  He knew how much Maine meant to Wash.  He wasn’t an idiot.  The way he was concerned about him, the way they interacted over pancakes.  It reminded him…

              It reminded him of his Wash.  And himself.

              He knew they cared about each other.  So why in the hell did Tucker tell Wash that he fucking kills Maine in the future?

              “Great job, Tucker,” he muttered into his pillow.  “Way to fuck with the timeline.”

              But it wasn’t just his idiocy eating him alive.  It was the fact that he had probably hurt Wash.  He probably wouldn’t look at Maine the same way again, and it was all his fault.

              Someone knocked at his door.

              “Leave me alone,” Tucker grumbled.

              “So you _don’t_ want help dealing with what just happened?” CT’s voice had Tucker up in an instant.  He opened the door and stepped aside as she barged in.

              “Hear you’re telling people Maine goes rogue in the future.”

              “How did you - ”

              “I know things.  What I _don’t_ know is why you insist on dropping these knowledge bombs so randomly.  I can’t help you if you’re blabbing your mouth everywhere.”

              “So I can’t make Wash feel better by telling them that Maine makes it?” Tucker snapped.

              “From what I hear you weren’t exactly helping him, were you?”

              Tucker clamped his mouth shut and balled his fists.  CT noticed, and took a step back.  She removed her helmet, and a soft face with cropped brown hair that matched her armor gazed back at Tucker.

              “Look,” she said, shaking her head.  “For some insane reason, I believe all your bullshit.  What’s going to help us both is if you lay low for the time being.  Running around telling everyone that Freelancer’s gone corrupt - ”

              “I never said that.” Tucker’s eyes had gone wide.  “Where did you - ”

              CT bit her lip, casting her eyes downwards.

              “CT, what do you know about Freelancer?”

              CT shoved her helmet back on.

              “We both have our secrets,” she said quickly.  “And we both need to watch our backs.”

              She retreated to the door, then stopped.

              “Lay low,” she repeated, before she pushed herself out of the room.

Tucker knew a direct order when he heard it.  And unlike in the past, he knew he was going to follow this one.


	2. Forgiveness

              It was a few more weeks until the AIs came.

              Tucker spent them working out in the gym, avoiding contact with the other agents when he could.  York and North insisted he eat with them during meal hours, but he still tried to keep the conversation to small talk, avoiding any and all topics of future events.

              It was made even harder when the rumors of the AIs started spreading.

              “Who’s gonna get one first, do you think?” North asked one day at dinner.  “They’re saying they’re almost finished.”

              “Director’s said everyone’s gonna eventually get one,” York chimed in.  “There’s a line.”

              Tucker stared hard at his food, trying to ignore the conversation around him.

              “Hey Indi, you’re from the future, aren’t you?” South called over.  “Why don’t you tell us which one of us goes first?”

              Tucker looked around at all the faces staring at him.  The mess hall had gone uncharacteristically quiet.  He noticed Wash looking eagerly at him, his gray eyes wide.  Tucker blinked, and for a moment he saw his Wash peering at him, dark circles under tired eyes, gray spots in his hair.

              _Epsilon_.

              Tucker stood suddenly and grabbed his food.

              “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, before throwing out the leftovers and trying his best not to run back to his room.

              It was only a few minutes before there was a hesitant knock at his door.

              “Not feeling well,” he called out weakly.  “Come back later.”

              The door opened anyway.  Wash stepped in, his helmet tucked faithfully under his arm and concern lacing his features.

              “Are you okay?” he asked, closing the door behind him.  “Back there, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

              “Just…haven’t had good experience with AIs,” Tucker tried, beating around the bush.

              “May I?” Wash asked, gesturing to the spot on the bed next to Tucker.  He shrugged.

              “I’m not supposed to say much,” Tucker said as Wash settled in.  “Besides, I thought you’d be mad at me.”

              Wash raised an eyebrow.  “Why?”

              “Because a week ago I told you your best friend was going to - ”  He cut himself off, looking away.

              “Maine recovered.  Just like you said he would.” Wash gently put a hand on Tucker’s shoulder.  “For that I’m grateful.”

              “So you’re not mad?”

              “No.  I’m not mad.”

              He was forgiving him.  Tucker felt a rush of affection for Wash, and for a moment it was as if he were back in his own time, and Wash was sitting next to him, smiling at some stupid joke Tucker had made, and everything was okay.

              Tucker snapped back to the present and looked at the Wash sitting in front of him.  He was younger, more innocent.  He hadn’t met Epsilon yet.

              _Lie low._

              “I’m still concerned about you, though,” Wash said.  “You seemed to be staring at me.”

              “What, you think it’s because you’re pretty?” Tucker joked.

              Wash didn’t move his hand, didn’t react, and Tucker took a second to realize how close to each other they were.

              _Are you in there?_ Tucker thought, leaning forward.  _Can you really be my Wash?_

              “Tucker, what are you - ”

              “Shut up.  I have to check something.”

              Tucker closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Wash’s.

              For one brilliant moment, fireworks went off.  He was back on Chorus, pressed onto a too-small bed, skin touching skin as a warm feeling spread throughout his body.

              Then he was back in his room, and it was all gone.  There was nothing, not even a spark.  He fell back slowly, unwilling to let the kiss go.

              “…uh, Tucker?” Washington said.  “Did…did that work?”

              His gray eyes were looking at him with confusion.  An ugly mixture of feelings rose up Tucker’s throat.  Tears burst forward in his eyes as he screwed them shut, trying to choke down a sob.

              “I just…I fucking…”

              He collapsed forward, fingers digging into Washington’s hard armored chest.  Tucker pressed his forehead against the cool metal and let out a small keen.

              “I miss you so much,” he whispered.

              Washington stayed silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly and unashamedly inspired by papanorth's piece of art here: http://papanorth.tumblr.com/post/160464152201/its-not-the-same


	3. Gossip

               York was the first to get an AI.

              _There’s your answer_ , _South_ Tucker thought bitterly as he watched the gold-armored man enter the mess hall.  A green glowing avatar appeared at his shoulder, and Tucker’s heart ached as he remembered Church.

              Washington had left Tucker’s room without saying a word, and he had avoided him for the whole day.  Tucker beat two punching bags senseless as he overheard Carolina talk about York getting Delta with a tinge of jealousy in her voice.

              Tucker was in the process of hanging up a third bag when York approached him.

              “So,” he said casually, leaning against the wall of the gym.  He was out of his armor, and his eye looked particularly devious.  “I heard you and Washington had a conversation last night.”

              “Yeah,” someone else said, and North came sliding into view.  They were on either side of Tucker and he felt trapped.  “Heard there was talk of the future.”

              “And other things,” York added.

              “Agent York, I do not think it wise to inquire about the knowledge of future events that Agent Indiana - ”

              “Oh, can it, Delta,” York said, and the green avatar winked out.  “There isn’t anything wrong with a bit of gossip.”

              Tucker felt his cheeks growing hotter.

              “Nothing happened,” he mumbled, taking a few more swings at the bag.

              North grabbed it and kept it still.

              “Indiana,” he said, boring his eyes into Tucker’s.  “Washington’s been out of it ever since last night.  We both know you weren’t just talking in there.”

              Tucker blushed even harder and turned away.

              “We were talking about Maine,” he managed.  It wasn’t exactly a lie.

              “And?” York pushed.  Tucker clenched his fists.

              “Hey!”

              Tucker looked up.  CT was standing at the gym entrance, arms crossed over her chest.

              “Ease up, you two. I need to talk to him.”

              North and York threw up their eyebrows but didn’t say anything.  CT stepped forward and guided Tucker out of the gym.

              For a brief moment, he smiled at CT, grateful for her saving him.  Then they reached his room, and CT practically shoved him inside.  She ripped her helmet off, glaring at him.

              “Is this your definition of lying low?” she asked, pointing a demanding finger at him.

              “One of these days I’m going to find out how you get all your information,” Tucker sighed.

              “It’s called intel, future boy.  Besides, you think kissing anybody around here’s gonna stay quiet?”

              “Jesus, does _everybody_ on this goddamn ship know about that?!”

              “It doesn’t matter.  That’s not why I’m here.”

              She cast a glance around the room before focusing on Tucker.

              “I need to know you won’t screw anything up in the future.”

              “Believe me, lady, I’m already trying.”

              “The thing is – oh, why am I trusting you with this - ”

              “Either because I’m from the goddamn future, or because you’ve finally changed your mind and seen how attractive I am.”

              The glare that CT gave him was enough for his grin to disappear.

              “I’m not fucking around.  I might – well, I might not be around for much longer.  You know what happens to Freelancer in the future, right?”

              Tucker nodded.

              “Then it’s up to you to stop it before it happens.”

              “Me?! Why me?”

              “Because you’ll be here, Indiana.  Besides, who else on this ship can I trust?”

              Tucker paused.

              “Tex.”

              “Agent Texas?” CT laughed.  “She’s a ghost.  She doesn’t even show up to the mess hall to eat.”

              “CT, trust me – she’s a lot more than you think.”

              CT peered up at him.  She pursed her lips.

              “Take care of yourself, Tucker.”

              It was only after she left the room that Tucker realized she used his real name.

* * *

 

              One week later, CT was gone.

              Tucker only found out because he ran into Carolina in the gym after the latest mission.  She was lifting weights outside of her armor, and muttering under her breath as she did so.

              “Goddamn Connecticut and her fucking rebellion.  Doesn’t think about the rest of us, does she?  First Sigma, now _her._ ”

              Tucker tried to slip out of the gym quietly, only to turn around and run straight into Washington.

              “Oh,” he said, trying to sidestep Tucker.  “Hi, Indiana.”

              Tucker tried not to let his refusal to use his real name hurt him.

              “Hey,” Tucker said, before he attempted to slip past Washington.  He grabbed Tucker’s arm instead, stopping him in his tracks.

              “Look, things have gotten really…” Washington began.

              “Shitty?”

              He laughed at that, and Tucker tried to remember the sound.  It wasn’t as jaded, as dry as his Wash.

              “Yeah.  So listen, everyone else and I don’t want you to feel…alone.  Just because our lives are crazy doesn’t mean you have to stay out of them.”

              Christ, he was worried about Tucker’s social life.  Tucker would have found it hilarious if it was in any other context.  He wished more than anything it was.

              “Dude, don’t worry about me,” Tucker answered.  “I can take care of myself.”

              Tucker couldn’t see Washington’s face beneath his helmet, but even in the past he was good at reading Wash’s emotions.  He was pretty sure Washington wasn’t convinced.

              “Listen,” Washington started, and Tucker prepped himself to bolt.  “I don’t know what you were trying to achieve that night, but - ”

              “It was stupid,” Tucker said hurriedly, eager to get away from the conversation.  “Just, forget about it, okay?  I just needed to know if - ”

              He stopped talking.  Washington peered at him, and Tucker could feel the worry coming off of him.  Past Washington cared too much.  Past Washington would stop at nothing until he figured out what the hell was going through Tucker’s brain.  Why he was hopelessly in love with him.  Why he was so worried about his future.

              _Change the subject._

              “I’m sorry about CT,” Tucker said, then bit his tongue.

              _Bad subject, bad subject._

“Yeah, well.  Maybe next time she’ll have the decency to desert before I have to fly through an asteroid field.”

              He was making a joke.  Tucked sighed with relief and let out a soft chuckle.

              “Hey, there’s an, uh - there’s a class on AI we all have to attend,” Washington offered.  “If you wanna come by…”

              Tucker sighed and hid a small smile.  At least it would give him something to do.


	4. Creator

              Tucker sat in the back of the dark classroom, rubbing his head as the Counsellor droned on about AI.  He was entertaining himself by glaring at the Director behind his helmet.

              “Are there any questions?” the Counsellor concluded.

              “Yeah, I got a question,” South piped up, her voice obnoxiously reminding Tucker of one of his ex-girlfriends.  “Why do we need to learn all this stuff?”

              “Because you’ll need it in the future,” Tucker said before he could stop himself.  All eyes turned to him.

              “Is there something you’d like to tell us, Agent Indiana?” the Director said, his voice tighter than usual.

              Tucker looked desperately around at everyone’s faces.  He suddenly felt foolish for leaving his helmet on, despite it helping him hide the panicked look on his face.

              “I, um…” He struggled, thinking of what little he knew.  He knew about the Meta, and he glanced briefly over at Maine, his sturdy face hidden in shadow.  Wrong thing to bring up.  He knew about Epsilon, what he did to Wash.  But he also knew that the other AIs had existed after the Meta.  That the people who were staring at him would need to know that AI could go rogue, to protect their own.

              _You could stop this.  Right now._

              “Metastability,” he spluttered.  The Director raised an eyebrow.

              “Yes, Agent?”

              “It’s a, um…it’s something everybody should know about.  In case something bad happens.  You never know when an AI could go bad, y’know?”

              “Metastability?” a smooth voice crooned.  Tucker turned and saw an orange figure surrounded in flames floating in front of Maine.  “I was aware of the four stages of rampancy of an AI, but does the fourth have any particular significance?”

              “It is simply a theory, Sigma,” the Counsellor said, taking a step forward.

              “But, it is possible?” Sigma asked.  There was a curiosity in his voice that made Tucker’s skin crawl.  “Obviously, it must be, if Agent Indiana believes it is significant in the future.”

              “Remember, Sigma, you are not a full AI.”

              “Well, as the Director always says, it is important to have ambition.”

              Sigma smiled then, and it was all Tucker could do not to react to the implied villainy in it.

              “Agent Indiana,” the Director snapped.  “A word.”

* * *

              The Director’s office was a cold and calculating place, just like its occupant, and Tucker shifted nervously as the door shut behind him.

              “I am very interested in your supposed knowledge, Agent,” the Director began.  “If your origins are what you say they are, you could be very useful to us.”

              “I thought that’s why you kept me around,” Tucker said, trying to stay calm.

              “You are correct.  However, given your recent actions, it would seem as if your knowledge is greatly needed.  So please, tell me, how much do you know about Agent Washington?”

              _Shit, he knows._

              Tucker felt his chest grow tight as he tried to keep breathing.

              “Well, um - ” he attempted, trying to betray as little as possible.  He was so bad at this.  “He seems like a good agent.”

              “I see.  And what, Agent, is your relationship to him in the future?”

              Nights lying in bed, listening to Wash as he breathed.  Cracking stupid jokes and listening to him laugh like it had been ages since he had.  Rubbing his back after he woke up thrashing from a nightmare.  Kissing him like nothing else mattered, his sweet lips erasing every bad memory he’d ever had.

              “Agent Indiana.”

              Tucker blinked.

              “We’re uh…we’re friends.  Good friends.”

              The Director nodded curtly, and the knot in Tucker’s stomach loosened slightly.  Maybe he could get away with this after all.

              “You seem to know a great deal about our AI,” the Director continued.

              “Not really.  I’ve just had bad experiences with them.”

              “Bad experiences?” he asked, and Tucker cursed himself internally.  “What do you mean?”

              Biting his tongue until it started to bleed, Tucker managed a shrug.

              “Believe me when I say, Agent,” the Director said slowly.  “Whatever you tell me will only help the agents you care about.  My primary objective on this ship is to help my agents achieve their goals.”

              _By fucking them up and turning them against each other?_ Tucker thought, but he was hesitant.  As much as he distrusted the Director, he was the man in charge of the whole program.  If he could convince anyone to change things, it would be him.

              “Something…goes wrong.  You underestimate an AI’s power and…”

              _And everything goes to shit_ he finished, chewing the inside of his cheek.

              “An AI?” The Director’s green eyes widened.  Tucker caught himself thinking of Church.  He knew he was based on the man before him, but he couldn’t imagine on what.  Could the Director have a hidden streak of sarcasm, or a horrible aim?  More importantly, could he really care about his agents as much as Tucker knew Church cared about his team?

              “Which AI, Agent Indiana?” the Director asked, peering closely at Tucker’s face, hidden safely behind his helmet.

              Tucker shifted his feet and tried to look anywhere but straight into his eyes.  Finally, he took a deep breath.

              “The one you give Agent Washington.”

              It wasn’t a specific name.  But he hoped that it gave the man some semblance of warning, so that he could make do on his word.

              “Agent Was - ” the Director began, then stopped, pondering something.  “And you don’t know the name of this AI?”

              “No.”

              _You’re a terrible liar, Tucker._

              The Director nodded again, then turned away.

              “Very well.  You may go now, Agent.”

              Tucker nodded too, and left the room in a hurry.

              He made it halfway to his room before realizing he was starving.  Unwillingly, he walked to the mess hall, where he found York, North, and Washington.

              “It’s not _an_ Alpha, Wash, it’s _the_ Alpha,” North was saying, and Tucker froze in his tracks.  “Theta thinks about him a lot – more than thinks, really, he’s - ”

              “Obsessed?” Tucker asked, sliding up to the table.  Maybe he could get them to start questioning everything.  A little rebellion never hurt anybody.

              “Yeah, how do you know?” North said.

              “Intuition,” Tucker half-joked, taking off his helmet and grabbing an apple that was sitting in front of Wash.  “Don’t you guys wonder where these fragments come from?”

              “Yeah, they call this one father,” York offered.  “No, that’s not right…”

              “Creator,” North supplied.  “Indiana, you can just tell us, right?  Who’s this big Alpha?”

              He remembered Church’s big laugh.  His cockiness as he aimed a sniper rifle he was sure to miss.  His sarcasm dripping on every word he uttered.  His anger at being used by a great big secret project when he just wanted a normal life.

              “He doesn’t belong here,” Tucker finally answered.  “He doesn’t want to be here, I mean.”

              “But who is he?”

              Tucker looked over at Washington, who still had his stupid helmet on and was trying to eat a banana.  He knew these people wouldn’t be able to rescue Alpha.  They weren’t prepared to take down the entire Project Freelancer based on a little conversation.  But if CT had entrusted him to continue her work, then he needed to make an effort.

              “He’s someone that needs your help,” Tucker said.  He winced at how dramatic he sounded, especially when Washington froze with the banana halfway to his visor.

              “North?” A small voice piped up as the tiny red and blue figure of Theta peeked its head around North’s helmet.  “Are you done talking yet?”

              North made a shooing motion towards Theta.

              “Not yet, Theta, we’re - ”

              “You’re talking about Alpha, aren’t you?” Theta’s avatar was wearing his helmet, but Tucker heard the distinctive pout in his voice.  “You’re not supposed to do that.”

              “Theta, I - ”

              “Agent York.” Delta appeared at York’s shoulder.  “I must agree with Theta.  The subject of the entity known as Alpha is considered off-limits.”

              “By who?” Tucker asked.

              “The Director, of course.”

              “It sounded like something really important,” Washington offered in the midst of swallowing.

              “Look, we were just talking,” North said hurriedly.  “Theta, come on, we all want to know where you came from, y’know?”

              Both Theta and Delta flickered rapidly and suddenly, a speck of crystal white fraying their edges.  Before Tucker could react, they both spoke simultaneously.

              “The subject of Alpha is off-limits.”

              North’s face softened, and he held up a hand as if he wanted to pat Theta on his head.

              “I’m sorry we brought it up,” he said softly.  Theta looked up at him for a moment before climbing onto North’s shoulder.

              “Wanna see my new skateboard trick?” he asked, as if nothing had happened.  North got up and walked away, smiling.

              “I should listen to Dee,” York said, getting up as well.

              “But I - ” Tucker began, but York held up a hand.

              “Don’t push it, Indiana.  You’re already toeing the line here.”

              He walked away, leaving Tucker with Washington.

              “For what it’s worth,” Washington whispered.  “I think it sounds interesting.”

              Tucker looked at him then, as he wiped banana juice off his visor, and tried to imagine what his Wash would tell him.

              _You’re not the same person you were back at Blood Gulch._

He was trying to be braver.  Smarter.  He was trying to save who he loved.

              So why did he feel like he was just making things worse?

              “Thanks,” Tucker said dejectedly.  He pushed himself up, no longer hungry.

* * *

 

              That night, he dreamed he was back on Chorus.  He was fighting Felix again, and the Director was sitting to the side and laughing.  Tucker was losing, trying desperately to get in a hit but failing, and as Felix’s knife entered his gut he cried out for Wash.

              But when he came, he was different.  The Director had given him a new AI, a better one, and he had never gone insane, never joined Blue Team.  He followed every order he was given, and right now the Director was telling him to aim his pistol at Tucker’s head.

              “Wash, it’s me!” Tucker shouted, as Felix laughed.  “I tried to stop this!  Don’t you recognize me?  It’s me!!”

              Tucker saw him pull the trigger, heard the gunshot.

              He woke up gasping for air, the sheets around him drenched in sweat.  He fumbled for his helmet, for the video logs, for anything of Wash that remained.

              He sat on the edge of the bed, his helmet over his tear-stained face and his hands clutching the sheets, as he watched Wash talk to him.

              _If you’d just listen to me you could do this._

Tucker winced as he heard his voice.

              _I don’t want to do this! Did you ever think of that?  All I wanna do is stand around and talk to my friend.  But he’s gone now and all I have is you!_

              Tucker yanked the helmet off before he could hear Wash’s stunned reply.


	5. Memory

              It started when Wash began thinking about Maine.

              He had been thinking about the Meta’s suit, and how it was tied to Tucker’s disappearance, when his mind ignored his protests and wandered over to Maine.  Maine, in his silent stoicism.  Maine, as they both returned from a mission alive but shaken, how he pulled on Wash’s arm, waited until everyone had left the locker room, and then he was kissing him, with a reassuring passion that they were both alive, and they might as well celebrate it.

              Maine, lying on a hospital bed, bandages wrapped tightly around his throat.

              But this time, Wash shook his head as his memory turned fuzzy.  He was used to this, this uncertainty when it came to his memories, but this was different, this was as if they were…changing.

              He closed his eyes and focused, trying to clear it up, and then he remembered someone sitting next to him.  Someone in aqua armor, trying to tell him that it would be okay.  Telling him that Maine would survive, but he would become something else.

              Wash sank back against the hard metal walls of his room as more memories flooded through him.  An invitation to a classroom, a conversation at the mess hall, all centered around a man with teal armor and a hesitant smile he would know anywhere.

              Then he remembered a kiss in a room, how the soldier had leaned forward and kissed him so gently yet so passionately but he had no idea why he wasn’t feeling anything too.

              Wash sucked in a huge gasp of air as he pressed his head against his hands.

              _Tucker, what are you doing in my memories?_

* * *

              For the next few days, Tucker stuck to himself.  He thought it safer that way, avoiding people when he could, eating at odd times to avoid any more confrontation with York or North or, worse, Washington.  He felt guilty, as CT’s words stuck in his mind.

              _It’s my responsibility to change things,_ he thought.  _I have to do_ something.

              Yet every time anyone approached him or said hello, he’d take the first exit presented to him.

              He knew why.  He couldn’t wipe the image of Washington’s wide eyes from his mind.  His eager voice, wanting to know everything.  He had already fucked up with telling him about Maine.  He didn’t want to do it again.

              He felt trapped.  He should be changing things, reinventing history.  Saving his Wash.  But he knew the more he meddled the more he put his Wash in more danger.

              He found himself in the gym again, punching the shit out of yet another bag.

              “You really hate those things, don’t you?”

              Tucker stopped and turned.  Washington stood there in civvies, a towel draped around his neck.  He wore a smile but he looked tired.  Something in the back of Tucker’s mind reminded him that he had gone on a mission that day.  He cursed himself for not paying more attention, though by this point in knowing past Washington, he knew he could handle himself.  He hated how bitter the thought made him.

              Tucker threw in one more punch then took a step back.

              “Lot to think over.  It helps.”  He lanced Washington up and down.  “How was the mission?”

              The smile faded.

              “Few injuries.  Nothing major.  But we lost CT.”

              Tucker gulped.  “How do you mean, lost?”

              “She’s dead.”

              Tucker’s heart sank.  The one ally he had in this insanity, gone.

              “Armor’s gone too.  Carolina’s not too happy about it.”

              “Is she ever happy about anything?”

              Washington’s smile returned.

              “Well, she’s always kept her emotions tight to her chest.”

              “Yeah, bet that’s not the only thing that’s tight.  _Bow-chicka-bow-wow.”_

              For a moment Washington just stared at him, and Tucker worried he had gone too far.  Then he let out a small chuckle, that swiftly turned into a big laugh.  Tucker managed a big grin, and joined in, and for a blessed minute he was back on Chorus.  Wash was standing next to him, groaning but giggling under his breath, as one of Tucker’s jokes broke the tension of monotonous training drills, and Palomo was smiling along with everyone else.

              “Don’t let her hear that!” Washington managed to say as he slowly recovered.  “She’ll pound your ass into the ground.”

              Tucker’s smile grew bigger.

              “I’ll pound her ass! _Bow-chicka-bow-wow!_ ”

              The laughter started again ten-fold, and Tucker let himself get lost in the moment.  There was no time travel paradox that had to be solved, no imposing Director, no rogue AIs.  Just him and Wash, laughing like they were meant to be together.

              Finally, after several minutes more of Tucker making jokes, their laughter subsided.

              “I haven’t laughed like that since we all played Twister.  God, that was so long ago.”

              Tucker raised an eyebrow.  “Twister?  Please tell me you have pictures.”

              “You’ll have to pay York,” Washington grinned.  He wiped his eyes and moved further into the gym.  “Did I distract you from destroying anymore punching bags?”

              Tucker sighed.  “Yeah.  You definitely did.”

              Washington settled in next to the bag and gave it a few tentative punches.

              “You know, if we do know each other in the future, do we laugh like this often?”

              A thousand memories of the two of them laughing sped through Tucker’s mind.  After he cracked a joke, after they fought with each other until they were delirious.  After a mission for Chorus, where the relief that they were still alive was too much.  After they kissed and just stared at each other and were grateful for each other even existing.

              “Yeah,” Tucker said, smiling at the floor.  “Yeah, we do.”

              “Well, I look forward to it.  You certainly know how to distract from a shit mission.”

              Tucker scoffed.  _Of course you do, you dork._

              He drifted to the door and looked back at Washington, who was now throwing himself into his routine.  He was so happy.  He had no idea what was coming.

              _You’re not the same person you were back on Blood Gulch._

              Tucker curled his fingers tightly around the door frame.

              His Wash believed in him.  His Wash knew he wouldn’t give up.  Washington needed him.  He wanted more time to laugh.  Needed it.

              He was all alone in this.  But he could damn well try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally forgot - that Twister line was inspired by this piece of art: http://aurayafrost.tumblr.com/post/96207435416/the-only-reason-york-wont-compete-is-so-he-can


	6. AI

              Carolina wanted two AIs.  She got two AIs.

              South was very public about her distaste and hatred of the Director’s decision, but all Tucker could feel was relief.  She was getting Washington’s AI.  She was getting Epsilon.

              A part of him had been worried for her.  If Epsilon had destroyed Wash’s mind, what would he do to Carolina’s?  But before he could do anything she was in surgery, and everything went to plan.  She was resting in the infirmary, York waiting patiently to the side, and nothing had happened.  No screaming, no insanity.  Just normal implantation, and Tucker was beyond satisfied.  He was happy.

              He sat in the infirmary and listened to York joke around with Washington.

              “The other side effects were way worse.”

              “What other side effects?” Washington asked, fear creeping into his voice.

              “You know: bleeding from he eyes, ringing ears…inverted penis.”

              “Inverted _what?!_ ”

              Tucker burst out laughing along with York, and Washington groaned.

              York turned and his face brightened.

              “Hey, she’s awake!”

              He ran over to Carolina’s bed as she opened her eyes.

              “How you feelin’, Champ?”

              Tucker could see gears turning in Carolina’s mind.  AI or not, he knew that face from Chorus.

              “I want a match.  Right now.”

              She pushed herself up and through the doors.  York followed her nervously.

              Washington nudged Tucker’s shoulder.

              “Wanna go watch someone’s ass get kicked?”

              “Whose ass?” Tucker asked, getting up.

              Washington shrugged.  “Who knows.  But it should be good.”

              Tucker smiled.  He wanted to see Epsilon in action anyway.  He wondered if he would be as much like Church as he was in the future.

* * *

              Whatever Tucker expected from the fight, it wasn’t what happened.

              It all happened so fast.  First Carolina and Tex were running at each other, two AIs at Carolina’s back (neither of which sounded like Church, but Tucker figured Epsilon was probably different in the past).  Then the Director came charging in from out of nowhere, screaming someone’s name, and the next thing Tucker knew everyone with AIs was on the floor, crying out in pain.  Tucker stood there, motionless, as the Director regained his composure eerily quickly and insisted that Carolina, who was sobbing on the floor of the training area, be left alone.

              Tucker saw Tex punch her in the face, knocking her out.  He was grateful for the small act of mercy before the Director was barking orders at everyone to leave, and leave quickly.

              He was shuffled back to his room along with everyone else, and he was left alone to think.

              This was his fault.

              He had insisted that the Director not give Epsilon to Washington, not realizing that he would give him to someone else.  He knew that the AI was unstable.  He knew what he did to Wash.  Why did he think he would be any better off with Carolina?

              He sat with his thoughts for too long before someone knocked on his door.

              “Come in,” Tucker said, then realized how weak his voice sounded.  He cleared his throat.  “Come in!”

              Washington stepped forward, still in his armor, his helmet off and his eyes full of worry.

              “Hey,” he said softly.

              “Hey,” Tucker responded, nodding at the spot on the bed next to him.  Washington took a seat.

              “How’s she doing?” Tucker asked, dreading the answer.

              “Not good.  York’s with her, but the doctors thought she would wake up by now.”

              Tucker winced.

              “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, staring at the floor.

              “What are you talking about?” Washington asked, trying to peer at Tucker.

              “I made this happen.  Her AI was meant for you.”

              “I know that.  That doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

              Tucker groaned.  Silence fell for a few moments.

              “They signed me up for the next AI,” Washington murmured.

              “ _What?!”_ Tucked jerked back so hard he hit his head on the wall.  He rubbed the sore spot and stared at Washington.  “Why?!”

              “’Time marches on,’” Washington said, using air quotes.  “Tex wasn’t very impressed.  She thinks they know what they’re doing.  At least, I think she does.  You never can tell with her.”

              “But, but _Carolina!_ ” Tucker protested.  “Look what happened to her, they can’t keep doing implantations if this shit keeps happening!”

              “Look, I’m scared too, okay?” Washington admitted.  “What happened to Carolina was scary.  Hell, it technically happened to most of us.  But the Director has gotta know what he’s doing, right?  And an AI can - ”

              He cut himself off, looking away from Tucker.

              “An AI can what?” he asked.

              “Nevermind.”  Washington stood up suddenly, and Tucker immediately missed his presence next to him.  “Look, I’m gonna…the implantation’s tomorrow.  I’ll see you on the other side, alright?”

              Tucker didn’t have a chance to respond before Washington left the room.

              _It’s not Epsilon_ he thought.   _He’s not getting Epsilon.  It will be okay._

* * *

              Washington left Tucker’s room barely able to refrain himself from telling him exactly what he was planning.

              The Director had told him that an AI enhances a soldier’s ability to fight.  That it would show him the world through a new perspective.  But he knew what else it could do.  AIs could communicate to their siblings.  They could help figure out problems that Washington couldn’t on his own.

              An AI could help him save Maine.  He knew it in his heart.  It could help him talk to Sigma, help him figure out what was going on.  It could keep Maine from ever turning against Washington.

              As he closed his eyes that night and entered dreamless sleep, he knew he was doing the right thing.


	7. Iota

              Tucker couldn’t sleep.  He tossed and turned, remembering his nightmares, imagining Wash changed so drastically he didn’t recognize him.  Finally he shoved himself up out of bed and chose to wander the halls of the ship instead of sit alone with his thoughts.  He drifted through the rooms before finding himself at the infirmary again.  Carolina was still out cold on one of the beds, York asleep next to her.  Tucker stayed there, staring at Carolina, wondering what the future was going to be like now that she had Epsilon.

              He was about to leave when York called over to him.

              “Hey, Indiana.”

              Tucker stopped and turned.  York was sitting up, his hand still firmly wrapped around Carolina’s.

              “Crazy times, right?” he asked.

              Tucker simply nodded.

              “Look,” York began, shifting his gaze to the side.  “I’m sorry about chewing you out the other night in the mess hall.”

              Tucker shook his head.

              “I was trying to…I was messing with things.  You don’t have to - ”

              “You were trying to warn us.  About this.”

              He gestured to Carolina.

              “I should have appreciated it more.”

              He stared at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Tucker.

              “Indiana – Tucker?” He took a deep breath.  “Is Alpha the cause of all this?”

              Tucker paused.  He knew Alpha had created all of the fragments.  But he also knew Epsilon was so unstable not because of him, but because of the Director.

              He shook his head.

              “The Director is.”

              York sank back.

              “You’re serious aren’t you?”

              Tucker nodded and sighed.

              “Look, just…do yourself a favor?  When things go to shit, make sure you’re on the right side in all of this.  And don’t do it for my sake.  Do it for hers.”

              He pointed to Carolina.  York’s face softened.

              “Thanks, Tucker,” he said, before settling back down to sleep.

              “No problem.”

* * *

              The artificial daylight came before Tucker wanted it to.  It slipped between the cracks of the door and let him know that the next day had come, whether he liked it or not.

              His stomach was protesting the very thought of food, so he skipped the mess hall and made his way to the infirmary waiting room.  North was there too, dressed in civvies and looking tired, and he smiled weakly at Tucker.

              “Don’t suppose we’re allowed in there?” Tucker asked, gesturing at the looming metal doors that led to the surgery.

              North let out a half-hearted chuckle.  Tucker hated how nervous he looked.

              “ _You’re_ not.  I volunteered to standby with Theta and help if - ”

_If things go wrong_ Tucker thought miserably.

              “Everything will be fine,” he managed, trying to believe his own words.

              “You know that?” North asked, and the genuine concern in his voice made Tucker’s heart ache.

              Tucker paused.  Washington wasn’t getting Epsilon.  The worst that could happen was a changed personality.  Tucker tried not to let that scare him as much as it did.

              “I’m sure,” he answered, trying to sound brave.  “Things changed.  This is different than what happened.  Whatever happens, it’s not going to turn out bad.”

              North nodded and looked over at the surgery doors.  He glanced at a watch on his wrist.

              “I think they’re starting soon,” he said softly.

              Tucker took a deep breath.

              An hour went by in silence.  Two.

              Then he heard the screams.

              Bloodcurdling, heartwrenching, and _everywhere_.  They echoed through the room, through the very ship.  Tucker was on his knees in seconds, clutching at his head, because those were _Wash’s_ _screams._

              He barely registered North as he bolted through the doors, yelling something Tucker couldn’t comprehend.  Wash just continued, crying in agony that Tucker _felt, because he knew that sound, it was the sound Wash made when he woke up thrashing from a nightmare, when his memories were too much and even Tucker couldn’t calm him down.  It was the screams he made when he remembered Epsilon._

_When he remembered everything._

              The sound stopped so suddenly that Tucker collapsed, breathing hard and curling into a ball.

              _What happened what happened what happened_

There was nothing but the cold floor and Tucker’s racing thoughts for minutes that felt like eternity.

              Then North walked into the room.

              Tucker bolted upright, scrambling to his feet while he stared at North.

              “What - ” he gasped out, before North interrupted him.

              “Something went wrong with the implantation.”  His voice was surprisingly steady considering how frightened he looked.

              “What?  _What went wrong?_ ” Tucker yelled.

              “The Epsilon AI malfunctioned.”

              The world around Tucker came to a sudden jarring halt.  North’s voice felt a million miles away as Tucker focused on the single name he had uttered.  Nothing existed except it, nothing touched him except that name, and everything that it meant.

              _Epsilon.  No, no, not Epsilon, not here, he was fine, he was going to be okay, I made it better, I fixed it, why does he have Epsilon, why, why, why???_

“ _Why?!”_ Tucker cried, filled with betrayal and anger and thousands of other emotions all culminating in him staring at North as he raised his hands in defense.

              “We don’t know what happened, we - ”

              “Why does he have it?!” Tucker snapped.  His fingers were curling into fists, he didn’t care who North was, he wasn’t telling him what happened, why Wash was suffering.  “I thought Carolina got his AI!”

              North paused for a moment, his fear giving way to a brief flash of confusion.

              “The Director gave _Iota_ to Carolina.  Epsilon is - ”

              _The AI Wash got afterwards, the one the Director must have thought would be okay._

“The Director,” Tucker growled, and this time he drew his sword and stepped closer to North, who stood there, defenseless.  North took a step back.

              “Indiana, what are you - ”

              “My name’s not Indiana!” Tucker shrieked.  “Where’s the Director?”

              “Tucker, you need to calm down, you can’t - ”

              But it didn’t matter what he was saying, because he had already pressed a button on his watch, and the soldiers were already pouring into the room.  Tucker turned and took a wild swing at one of them but there were too many, and something sharp hit his neck, and he was on the floor, looking up at North, who was biting his lip and looking apologetic.

              “I’m sorry, Tucker,” he whispered.

              _You should apologize to Wash_ Tucker tried to say, but the room was turning blurry, and all Tucker could do was close his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'm sorry.  
> Secondly, I'm going away for all of next week, so the next update probably won't come until after that. It will come.


	8. The Meta

             Tucker woke up in a cell.

              He was still in his armor, but his sword was gone, along with his other weapons.  There was a bench to sit, three identical gray walls, and a door that was sealed tightly shut.

              He knew this because he spent the better part of three hours slamming himself against the metal and screaming.

              “You scared, you cowardly motherfucker?!  I’m gonna fuck you up so much you won’t even remember your goddamn name, you hear me you piece of shit?!”

              Around the fourth hour his voice was gone, screamed raw and useless, and his body ached from his multiple attempts to escape.  His knuckles were bleeding underneath the gloves where he had punched the walls repeatedly, and he still had a headache from whatever drugs the soldiers had shoved into him.

              Tucker sank onto the bench, pressed his forehead against his knees, and tried not to think about Wash.

              He failed.

              He remembered after Sidewinder, when he still hated him for killing his friends.  How he had gone to get a midnight snack and heard him sobbing.  How he had tried to wake him up but got punched in the face instead.  How it became a nightly ritual, this Agent who he barely knew, how he would go into his room and sit with him until he calmed down, because they were all a little fucked up after a crazy maniac tried to kill them all in the snow, so why did that mean one of them had to suffer for it?

              He remembered when he first told him what he dreamed about.  How it wasn’t just nightmares about the Meta.  It was flashes of memories that weren’t his.  It was torture and loss and grief over someone he had never known.  It was Epsilon.

              He remembered when Epsilon came back, how Wash would try and avoid directly talking with him.  How he seemed twice as tense as usual, how his nightmares flared up tenfold.  How Tucker couldn’t figure out why Church was putting Wash so on edge.

              Now he knew.

              An alarm began to blare throughout the ship, loud and obnoxious and making Tucker’s head feel worse.  The room around him shifted, and suddenly he felt like he was falling.  He began to float and he realized the room, the _ship_ must be in freefall.

              _We’re crashing.  Oh god, we’re crashing, and I have no idea where Wash is._

              He heard a distant countdown.  Time to impact.

  1. _4\. 3. 2._



He curled into himself and squeezed his eyes shut.

              _I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry, Wash.  I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m_

_1._

* * *

              When Tucker opened his eyes, everything was white.  There was smoke pouring in heavy blankets from something to his right, and it mixed with the snow in the air until it turned an ugly shade of gray.

              _Wash.  Where’s Wash?_

              Tucker moved to get up then sank back as pain shot up his side and down into his legs.  He noticed the metal beam pinning his legs only after he realized there was a hole in his armor, dripping blood.  He gripped it tightly as he tried to shift the beam off his legs, but nothing moved.

              “Help,” he breathed, before he coughed, spitting up more blood.  “Help me.”

              There was nothing and no one, and Tucker let his head fall back as he gazed up at the sky.

              _I’m gonna die here and I can’t see Wash.  I can’t tell him anything and everything._

His vision was getting fuzzy, so he closed his eyes.  When he opened them, Maine was looming over him.  The gold visor reflected fires from behind Tucker.

              An avatar flickered to life in front of Maine, a man surrounded by flames, his hands folded behind his back.

              “Agent Indiana,” Sigma said, the smirk too obvious on his face.  “Or should I say, Lavernius Tucker?”

              “What do you want?” Tucker groaned.  “Where’s Wash?”

              “I want to thank you,” Sigma crooned.  “Maine and I wouldn’t be who we are now if it weren’t for your brilliant insight.”

              “What are you talking about?”

              “You gave us the idea for metastability.  And from what I am aware, that is not the only item you have been influencing during your time with us.”

              Tucker glared at Sigma as the AI smiled.

              “While you were locked in your little cell, Agent Texas was inciting a revolution.  The traitor known as Agent Connecticut decided to leave her information in her hands – a suggestion made by _you_ , I believe.”

              Sigma began to pace, though he mostly floated, and Tucker would have found the sight amusing in any other context.  He tried to wrap his mind around what he was saying.  He remembered talking to CT about Tex, saying a casual throwaway line.  Is that what caused the ship to crash?

              “And Agent York took her side almost immediately,” Sigma continued.  “Again, I believe, under _your_ urging.”

              Maine was still standing above Tucker.  His silence chilled him colder than the snow.

              “And as for your dear Agent Washington,” Sigma said, clearly enjoying himself.  “I overheard the Director mention that he was worried that Iota would cause him issue.”

_Oh no_ Tucker thought.  _No, don’t say it._

              “This was after his conversation with you,” Sigma said with a smile.  “So he decided to give Iota to Agent Carolina, leaving poor Washington with the faulty Epsilon.”

              Tucker felt rage boiling within him.

              “Why are you telling me this?” he growled.

              Sigma actually laughed.  He threw back his head and chuckled, and it made Tucker’s blood turn to ice.

              “We have become the Meta.  We have already taken Agent Carolina’s AI.  It is only a matter of time before we find everyone else.”

              Maine bent over then, reaching out his hand.

              “A feat which you, unfortunately, will not be around to witness.”

              Maine’s strong fingers wrapped themselves around Tucker’s neck and began to squeeze.

              _I’m sorry, Wash._

              Tucker closed his eyes.

              Something inside Tucker’s stomach moved violently, and his head began spinning.  He struggled to breathe as he lurched forward.  He managed to open his eyes.

              The snowy landscape around him was gone, as were Maine and Sigma.  Instead, Tucker was lying in a rocky crater, the gray sky above him tinged with orange.  He winced as he tried to move – the beam trapping him was gone, but his legs were obviously in bad shape.  He looked down and winced at his wound before realizing that he was now wearing a helmet.  He wrenched it off and stared at it.

              _The Meta’s armor.  What the fuck?_

He had been wearing it when everything had gone wrong.  When the suit malfunctioned and sent him back in time.

              _Does that mean…I’m back in the future?_

“Wash?!” Tucker cried out, trying to push himself up.  His wound was making him dizzy.  “Wash, where are you?”

              Nothing.  His voice echoed across the rocks and into the air.

              He gave up on moving as his next push tore his side open a little more, and he screamed and clutched at the blood.  He was losing too much of it, he knew, but he couldn’t walk, couldn’t crawl.

              “Wash please…” he called weakly.  “Come find me.”

              His vision turned hazy, and he sank into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient everyone :) Next (and final) chapter coming shortly!


	9. Wash

              It had been three months since Tucker had disappeared.  It had been three days since Wash started remembering Tucker in impossible memories.

              So it only took about three seconds for Wash to react to the Recovery beacon that was transmitting three hundred miles east of the New Republic facility.

              “What the hell do you mean, recovery beacon?” Grif asked, after Wash burst into the mess hall panting hard and babbling about a rescue mission.

              Carolina, who had been skulking in the corner, pushed herself off the wall and stood tall before Wash.

              “Whose beacon is it?”

              “It’s Maine’s,” Wash breathed.  “Carolina, it’s Tucker.”

              It took too long to put together a team and a convoy, and Wash spent the whole time bouncing on the balls of his feet, gripping his rifle too tightly.  Carolina noticed, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

              “We’ll get there in time,” she said firmly.

              “How do you know that?” Wash snapped.

              “Because I know Tucker.  We all do.”

              The convoy left as soon as it was ready, and Wash was in the front vehicle, muttering under his breath.  Three hours later, they pulled up to an empty stretch of land.  Ruins of crashed ships peppered the landscape, leaving holes and craters.  The beacon was coming from one of them.

              Wash sprinted over to it and clambered up the side.  He peered down into the bottom, trying to see in the dim light.  There, sprawled out on the rocks below, was the distinct shape of the Meta’s armor.  The gold helmet had been thrown to the side, and Wash let out a sob as he saw Tucker’s face.

              He scrambled down into the crater and rushed to his side.  Tucker’s chest was covered in blood and his legs looked broken.  His skin was ashen, his hair a mess, and blood was running down his temple.

              “Tucker!” Wash pressed one hand to the wound, and the other cupped Tucker’s face towards him.  “Tucker, I’m here, you’ve got to wake up.”

              Tucker let out a small groan and opened his eyes.  Wash smiled as his blue met their brown.

              “I’m here.  Tucker, can you hear me?”

              Tucker frowned and shook his head.

              “No,” he moaned.  “No, I can’t, I can’t - ”

              “What’s wrong?!”

              “Epsilon.  Everything.  It’s my fault…”

              Wash closed his eyes for a second, letting his memories unfold.  Tucker had been there, on the Mother of Invention.  He knew that now.  He remembered how he tried to stop everything from happening.  How he had seen what Wash would become.  How he missed him so much, and Wash hadn’t even known.

              “You tried to save me,” Wash said softly.  “It’s not your fault that it didn’t work.  Taking down the Director was hard on _me_ , let alone - ”

              Tucker smiled through the blood in his mouth, and his body began shaking.

              “Tucker, what’s - ”

              Then he realized Tucker was laughing.  A harsh painful sound accentuated with a grin.

              “You…you said ‘hardon’,” Tucker whispered.  “ _Bow chicka bow…wow…”_

His voice wavered, then broke, and tears started rolling down Tucker’s cheeks.  Wash pressed him tightly against his chest as behind him, Dr. Grey and a few medics were making their way down.

              “I’m sorry…” Tucker sobbed into his armor, his fingers gripping at the metal.  Wash remembered a bed in a room, so long ago, when Tucker had curled into him just like this.  “I’m so…so sorry.”

              Wash kissed his forehead and closed his eyes.

              “Me too, Tucker.  Me too.”

* * *

              Tucker woke up slowly.

              Every inch of him hurt.  His head was throbbing and his side felt like it was on fire, and his legs itched something fierce and –

              _Wash._

              His eyes flew open and he bolted upright.  He immediately regretted the action after a sharp pain burst through his ribs, and he clutched at them as he looked up and –

              _Wash._

              “Easy there,” Wash said, reaching forward and holding Tucker’s shoulders.  “Lean back, okay?”

              Tucker obliged, letting his body fall back onto a soft pillow.  Wash’s hands stayed where they were, and Tucker squirmed slightly, trying to throw them off.  Why was he touching him, why did he care, after everything that Tucker had done?  He shouldn’t be this close, he shouldn’t rest his hands on his skin like that, even though Tucker had _missed this_ , his touch, his love.

              “No,” Tucker said, and Wash removed his hands.  Immediately, Tucker wanted them back, but no, he couldn’t, Wash _shouldn’t_.

              “Tucker?” Wash asked.  There was a tinge of fear in his voice.  “Are you okay?”

              Tucker didn’t let his eyes meet his.  Instead, he busied himself with looking around the room.  He was in a hospital, probably back in the New Republic base judging by Dr. Grey, typing something in a computer in the corner, pointedly not looking at Tucker.  Both his legs were in casts, his side bandaged, and he felt the tell-tale bumps of heavy stitches underneath.

              “How fucked up did I get?” he asked, directing his question at Dr. Grey.

              “Well!” Dr. Grey perked up immediately.  “Your legs were both crushed by _something_ heavy, it’s a mystery what, and we discovered some shrapnel buried underneath your ribcage.  Oh, and you had a simply _terrible_ concussion.  We found you in the Meta’s armor, something in the past must have triggered its time travel abilities, and let me tell you, the technology behind it will be…”

              Tucker zoned out as her perky voice brought him back to his life on Chorus, and he smiled, glad that for one moment he knew he would wake up to Caboose setting the base on fire, to Sarge yelling at Grif to get off his lazy ass.  He wouldn’t spend hours doing nothing on a boring spaceship, he would spend hours doing nothing on Chorus, with his family, with –

              _Wash._

              He was still sitting there, looking at Tucker with such concern that Tucker wanted to kiss him, to embrace him and tell him that everything was okay.

              But it _wasn’t._   It was all fucked up, it was all ruined, he had made everything _worse_ and –

              “Tucker,” Wash said, stressing his name with such force that Tucker locked eyes with him.

              _Those blue eyes, those tired eyes, so exhausted from never sleeping, from Epsilon._

“ _Tucker,_ ” Wash repeated, forcefully this time.  “It’s not your fault.”

              Tucker actually laughed, and it _hurt_ , but he didn’t care.

              “Wash, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that it wasn’t my fault.”

              Wash smiled.

              “I can try.  Because it’s true.  The Director was an _asshole,_ Tucker.  I never – he convinced me that I could help Maine.  That I could stop the Meta.  It was my fault.  It was the Director’s fault, it was _everyone’s_ fault Tucker.  You can’t - ”

              Wash stopped, his voice breaking.  He looked down and let his hand drift over Tucker’s, his fingers brushing his skin.  Tucker sucked in a breath, because he was _here_ , he was so close, he was –

              “You can’t blame yourself,” Wash whispered.

              Tucker took Wash’s hand and squeezed it.  Wash looked up and his _blue eyes, filled with love and joy and only a little bit of bitterness, because that’s what they were meant to look like._

              “Can I…” Tucker managed, biting his lip.  “I have to check something.”

              “Check wha - ” but Tucker was already leaning forward, ignoring the pain in his side, and he grabbed Wash’s shoulders and kissed him, deeply, with all the passion he had been missing.  He tried to put in all the memories he had gone over at night, all the feelings he had had when he looked at past Washington, all the everything, because _this had to be it, this had to be right._

              He pulled away and Wash looked at him for a few seconds too long, and Tucker almost fell back, because he had been wrong, Wash would never forgive him, he would –

              “Uh, okay…” Wash said slowly.  “Not that that wasn’t nice, but what exactly were you trying to accomplish?”

              Tucker stared at him, stared at him _hard_ , before bursting into the biggest grin his aching head could manage.

              “I…” Tucker gasped, as tears formed in his eyes and he shut them and threw himself forward and _hugged_ Wash as hard as he could.  Wash laughed and wrapped his arms around Tucker.

              “I missed you so much!” Tucker cried, and buried his face in Wash’s shoulder as Wash giggled, actually _giggled_ , and kissed the back of Tucker’s head.

              “I love you too,” he whispered in his ear, and Tucker knew that despite everything, things would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh I am sooooooo sorry this took so long to publish. I got sidetracked by so many things, mainly the three other RvB fics I published for Fluff Week. Thanks to everyone who stuck it out with me to the end. I loved writing this, and I will always love writing this, and I hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I did.  
> If anyone wants more RvB, just drop a prompt over at all-made-of-stardust on Tumblr. I would love to write more for y'all. You've been amazing.  
> (Last scene directly inspired by papanorth's art here: http://papanorth.tumblr.com/tagged/Tuckington-Time-Travel-AU)

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to StarTrail for being my beta reader, and also giving me the title. I blame her for introducing me to this stupid fandom.  
> Come visit me at all-made-of-stardust on Tumblr!  
> Time Travel AU idea also comes from papanorth.


End file.
